


Wishverse 05 - Small Brains

by Soledad



Series: If Wishes Were Horses (Wishverse) [5]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Actions Have Consequences (at least here), Canon-Typical Violence, Episode rewrite: s1.05 - Small Worlds, F/M, Heavy-Duty Gwen Bashing, Original Dialogue In Different Context, So very AU, The Many Departures of Gwen Cooper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7703542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soledad/pseuds/Soledad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many different ways to get rid of Gwen Cooper, while keeping the episodes as canonical as possible, including a great deal of original dialogue. A writing experiment. Not for Gwen-fans, obviously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I planned to write this part from a different POV. But certain characters have a life of their own, and this one simply insisted. ;).

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
 **EPISODE 05 – SMALL BRAINS, Part 1**

His dreams had been haunted lately – since the Cyberwoman episode, actually. He didn’t sleep often… he could go on without sleep for quite a while, and he avoided it if he could… too many ghosts of his past lurking in the darkness, waiting to catch him unaware. And it wasn’t so as if he’d keel over and drop dead from exhaustion – or from anything else, for that matter. Even though sometimes he _wished_ he could.

But the encounter with the Cyberwoman – more the sheer horror of it, of what it could have meant, rather than the physical strain itself – had taken more out of him than he’d have thought. He kept falling asleep at night lately… and the nightmares, long avoided simply by avoiding sleep, kept returning with a vengeance.

That still didn’t explain why he’d dream about the troop train in Lahore three nights in a row, though. About the dead men – _his_ men, _his_ responsibility – with their mouths stuffed with rose petals. Why _this_ memory? He had so many, most of them just as horrid. He doubted it was a coincidence.

He got off his bunk and climbed up to his office. Maybe checking his mail would serve as a distraction. All that stupid spam, offering herbal Viagra and magical penis enlargement (as if he’d need them!) always cheered him up. There was something strangely comforting in the consistency of junk.

Reaching his desk, he came to a sudden halt and sucked in a quick, shocked breath, seeing the single red rose petal. He picked it up, still not quite willing to accept its reality. It felt smooth, cool and solid under his fingertips, and he felt nameless dread come over him, knowing that the nightmares weren’t a coincidence, after all.

“What is it?” a familiar voice with a soft Welsh accent asked.

He turned around and wasn’t the least surprised to see Ianto, standing just outside the office, looking up from a file folder he must have been leafing through. Ianto practically hadn’t left the Hub since allowed back to work after his suspension.

“A warning,” Jack replied slowly. Ianto looked at him with a frown.

“What from?” he asked, nothing but professional interest on his carefully collected face. Jack shrugged.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, looking at the younger man and recognizing the lines of forcibly suppressed pain under the usual calm exterior. “It’s late. You shouldn’t be here.”

Ianto closed the folder and looked him straight in the eye, for the first time since the Cyberwoman disaster. “Neither should you,” he replied simply. “But neither of us has anywhere else to go, do we?”

With that, he walked over to one of the workstations, sat down and called up something he must have worked on for a while. Jack followed him, not entirely sure why. Ianto practically radiated sorrow and loneliness – the same things Jack had been feeling for days. Ianto had seen so much, had _lost_ so much for someone so young; the cruel twist of fate that had made him unable to die had thoroughly familiarized Jack with _that_ feeling.

Perhaps there _was_ a connection between them still, despite the irreparably broken trust. Only – was it truly irreparable? With Lisa gone, beyond any chance to return, Ianto’s deep-rooted, natural loyalty needed a new object on which to focus. Perhaps this was the real chance for Jack to secure that unique loyalty, those hidden skills for Torchwood – and for himself. With no other agenda on that remarkable mind of his (well, _hopefully_!), Ianto could finally become as vital for Torchwood Three – and for Jack, personally – as he was rumoured to once have been for Yvonne Hartmann.

“What have you got?” Jack asked, laying a hand on Ianto’s shoulder. _Someone_ had to make the first step, and _he_ was definitely in the better position to do so. They still had a long way to go restoring trust between them – or to _build_ it in the first place – and Ianto needed encouragement.

For a moment, Ianto stiffened under his touch, and Jack feared he’d shake it off. But only for a moment. Then he leaned back, just half an inch, or even less, as if trying to burrow into the warmth of Jack’s touch, and sighed. “Funny sorts of weather patterns.”

Jack felt his hand tighten on Ianto’s shoulder involuntarily. That was not good, not good at all! The nightmares, the rose petal, and now the unusual weather patterns… the clues were frighteningly clear, all of a sudden.

“Show me,” he said, letting go of Ianto’s shoulder (and mourning the loss of connection at once). He pulled up a chair next to the young man’s to get a better look at the screen.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
When Estelle’s invitation came a few days later, he knew he hadn’t been imagining things… and it made him nervous, frightened even. He was all too aware of the fact that _this_ was a threat he couldn’t protect the ones he loved from.

He took Gwen with him, partly because she still needed constant supervision and partly, well, because she was the most expendable of the team. He didn’t want her to get hurt or killed, not really. It was just so that while it would be hard to replace any of the others, _everyone_ he’d hire in Gwen’s stead would be several magnitudes better at the job.

He began to regret his choice, though, as soon as they reached the lecture room. Her constant scoffing and ridiculing the whole issue was getting on his nerves. Yes, of course he knew that the creatures were far from the shy, friendly, loving fairies Estelle believed them to be, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t exist. They were far too real for his comfort, and the idea of Estelle chasing after them in the woods with the camera at nighttime scared him shitless.

Seeing Estelle as a fragile old woman again was less of a shock than it had been a few years ago. He’d grown used to the sight – and he recognized that he still loved her. The nature of his love might have changed (she was way beyond lust and desire now); the depth of his feelings for her had not.

She seemed happy to see him, as always – he represented a period of her life in which she was happy and in love, and she cherished those memories. She showed him the crappy, blurred photos, her face shining with joy, with faith. She had never been more beautiful than in that moment, despite her wrinkles, despite her white hair, despite the swollen knuckles and all other signs of high age. He’d never loved her more than in that fleeting moment of her perfect happiness. Not even Gwen’s sour, bored face in the background could spoil their moment.

Perhaps he should have brought Ianto, after all. Ianto would have understood; he, too, had believed in something beautiful while all Jack had seen was a monster. It was all a matter of love and devotion, after all; and Ianto, like Estelle, had a surplus of both.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
They went to Estelle’s house to look at her other photos. Well, _Jack_ looked at them. Gwen, as usual, was poking around in the room, looking at Estelle’s private photos on the mantle. _Of course_ she had to pick out the one of Jack in uniform. _Of course_ she had to remove it from there, carry it over to him, ask her stupid questions about things that were nowhere close to her business.

In hindsight, Jack couldn’t tell why he’d lied to her. Why he’d said it was his father who’d been in love with Estelle. He should have known she wouldn’t let it be, tactless and nosy cow as she was. That she’d drill first him, then Estelle for details. And she did. Relentlessly. Until Jack had finally gotten enough and declared that they had to leave.

“Estelle, when you next see these creatures you call us immediately, understand?” he pressed. She made agreeing noises, but he could see that she was elsewhere, mentally, so he went on with the warning, even though he knew, deep down, that she wouldn’t listen. “Night or day, it doesn't matter, just call us. And be careful, it's important to me.”

She smiled at him. “But, Jack, I've nothing to worry about,” she chided gently.

Jack sighed and embraced her. “Just be careful. Please.” 

He could see Gwen turn back around and stare at them, open-mouthed. As if he wasn’t capable of caring, of gentleness. Oh, to hell with her! He decidedly put her out of his mind, put his arm around Estelle’s shoulders, kissed the top of her head and held her for a long moment. Estelle leaned into him and smiled. It was as if all those years hadn’t gone by at all. As if he’d actually _had_ a chance to grow old with her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
He tried to explain Gwen how dangerous the creatures were - particularly because people _wanted_ to see them as cute and harmless – but she didn’t believe him, of course. She had no sensitivity for myths, for the spirit world… for _anything_ , to be honest. For all that over-emoting, eye-rolling act she constantly put on, she was a remarkably shallow person. If it couldn’t be touched, fought and subdued like a Weevil, it didn’t exist for her. She could understand and accept the existence of aliens by now, but old moments and memories, frozen in time, _travelling_ in time, were beyond her narrow horizon and would always be.

He really should have brought Ianto instead.

Returning to the Hub, the team gathered to review the Cottingley glass plate slides, while Ianto was serving tea, for a change. He made a half-hearted joke about magic mushrooms, and Jack was glad to see him a bit closer to his dry-witted self. But Gwen jumped into their mild banter again, with her superior statement that the photos were fakes. She’d written an essay on them, after all, while at school, and the girls who’d made them had admitted they were fakes, decades later, after all.

Toshiko, as always, ignored Gwen’s self-important blathering. She was getting better at it with each new day. Jack wished he could learn from her how to do it. Owen was sniggering in the background. Despite the unmistakable signs of interest, he never admired Gwen’s _brains_ – not that there would be much to admire.

Toshiko, always the professional, put Estelle’s recent photos up on the wall monitor.

“So where was this sighting then?” she asked. Gwen stood up to look at the monitor, pretending to understand what she was seeing – and fooling nobody. The others simply ignored her.

”In a place called Roundstone Wood,” Jack replied.

Owen raised his head abruptly. “I know it. Has an odd history.”

“How d'you mean odd?” Jack asked with a frown.

Owen shrugged. “It's always stayed wild,” he said. “In the ancient times it was considered bad luck to walk in there or even to collect timber. Even the Romans stayed clear of it.”

”I've had no report of any sighting,” Toshiko said, checking her database.

”You won't,” Jack answered grimly. “These things come in under the radar, but they play tricks with the weather, so set up a program for unnatural weather patterns.”

Toshiko nodded. “Right. Actually, Ianto has already begun watching the patterns. I’ll modify the basic program a little, so that we can locate any changes more efficiently.”

Gwen turned away from the monitor and gave Jack an accusing look. She kept doing that whenever things didn’t go as smoothly as she'd expected them to go.

“Are you saying our machines can't pick them up?” she demanded. She seemed insulted by that fact, which was stupid, but again, with Gwen…

Jack shook his head. “Nothing can,” he said simply. “Tomorrow, we’ll have to go to Roundstone Wood to take readings of the place where Estelle has made her photos.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
They did that on the next day, Owen tagging along with them on the forest path, carrying the standard kit. Jack kept fiddling with his wrist strap, trying to get some readings – any readings – as he could feel that they were being watched. But not even his advanced fifty-first-century-equipment could get a hold on something that wasn’t entirely there. That was what frightened him in these creatures most; that they just couldn’t be pinned down. They were from another world, which wasn’t the same as from another dimension. His device would pick up a dimensional shift. These things were there, and somewhere else, in the same time. They travelled time by their very nature, not with the help of any devices – not even an ex-Time Agent could trap them.

It took them about fifteen minutes to reach a similar-looking rock formation. Jack stopped and compared it with the pictures they’d gotten from Estelle.

“These are the stones in the photographs,” he finally decided.

Owen nodded grimly. “I’m not surprised. You know, this whole area was forest in primeval times. Most of the development areas have been built on ley lines. Who knows what used to dwell here thousands of years ago – and what remained and is still lurking somewhere, in the form of psychic energy, engraved memories… whatever.”

Jack was still studying the readings on his wrist-strap. They were still inconclusive, so he only nodded absent-mindedly.

“Oh, come on, boys!” Gwen whined. “ _Anyone_ could have made this circle. People have been drawn to weird cults all the time.”

Jack turned to her and gave her an _extremely_ annoyed look. “Why do you keep doubting me? I spell out the dangers, you keep looking for explanations.”

She shrugged, achieving what she considered her superior air. The others considered it her making a fool of herself. “That's what police work's about.”

“This isn't police work,” Jack replied curtly. She rolled her eyes in a disturbing manner – it made one worried that they would simply fall out of her skull if she kept doing it.

“All right, then science,” she said condescendingly. As if she had the slightest idea what science was about.

“And it's not science,” Jack said dryly.

She pulled a face. “I know. You told me. It's that corner-of-the-eye stuff.” 

Her voice took on that annoying, whiny quality again, but both men refused to take the bait. They had a job to finish here, and the less attention they wasted on her, the sooner they could hope to get it done.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Events followed with a dizzying speed after that. First that paedophile, Mark Goodson, was found in his jail cell, dead, his mouth stuffed with rose petals. They could watch him on the CCTV footage, writhing on the floor as something unseen attacked him and choked him to death.

“Well,” Owen commented dryly, “that was… different. Do we know anything about this guy… the victim, I mean?”

Jack nodded. “He was a convicted pedophile; used to hang around schools.”

“In that case, it wasn’t exactly a mistake, whoever did this,” Owen said darkly.

Gwen’s thoughts, as usual, were stuck with the less-than-significant details. “Why the petals in his mouth?”

At first Jack was tempted to explain her at least _something_ about symbolism and forces of nature, but he realized it would have been a waste of his time. So he just shrugged and gave the simplest reply that even her brain could absorb. “Just a bit of fun on their part.”

It seemed, however, that he was still over-estimating Gwen’s mental abilities.

“You call _that_ fun?” she simpered, pointing at the monitor accusingly.

Jack tried very hard not to say anything inexcusably rude. There was only so much stupidity he could deal with; he was too worried about Estelle.

“That's the way these creatures like to do things,” he explained patiently, as if he would be talking to a _very_ slow four-year-old. “They play games, they torment and they kill.“

Gwen looked at her, eyes wide and teary, mouth hanging open in a rather unpleasant display of emotional upheaval. “Why?”

“As a punishment or a warning to others,” Jack replied tiredly. “They protect their own. The chosen ones. Somehow children and the spirit world, they go together.”

“So, how do we stop them?” Toshiko asked with professional detachment, for which Jack was eternally grateful. Another dramatic display of emotions and he would have killed someone. He sat down heavily, counting the problems on his fingers.

“First we have to find out who they want... which is gonna be damn hard to do, as they don’t show up on any surveillance equipment. And we can't trap them. They have control of the elements – fire, water, the air that we breathe. They can drag that air right out of our bodies. Sometimes I think they're part _Mara_.

Toshiko frowned. “ _Mara_? I don’t think I’ve heard that word before.”

“Kind of malignant wraiths,” Jack explained; talking to someone with actual brains was always such a relief. In such cases he always congratulated himself for having hired Tosh. “It's where the word ‘nightmare’ came from. They suffocate people in their sleep.”

Toshiko nodded in understanding. “I see how that can be a problem. So, is there a way we can beat them?”

Jack didn’t answer at once. Then he shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said slowly. “They’ll retreat when they have what they want… and I don’t think we’ll ever be rid of them. Not completely.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Then the phone rang. It was Estelle’s frightened call that the creatures had come to her home. Jack forgot all about Goodson, ordering everyone into the SUV and rushing to her house – although he feared they would arrive too late.

“It makes no sense,” Toshiko, sitting in the back seat next to Owen – Gwen just _had_ to shoulder her way to Jack’s side again – activated her mobile workstation and zoomed in on a specific spot on the map, which lit up red as a result. “It’s a fine night, yet the weather map says there’s rain.”

Jack felt his heart constrict painfully. For him, it _did_ make sense… horrible sense. Poor Estelle, she really should have left the creatures alone. They didn’t like mere mortals putting their noses into their secrets… unlike those mortals were chosen, which Estelle clearly was _not_.

He slammed down the accelerator. There was little hope that they might arrive in time, and even if they did, he knew they wouldn’t be able to do anything against those evil things, but he could at least _try_.

The SUV sped up and rushed down the road.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Directly continued from Part 1. Obviously. Ianto and Lisa’s past is entirely my invention... including the messed-up timeline. *points at the big, honking AU label*

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
 **EPISODE 05 – SMALL BRAINS, Part 2**

It was near midnight when they finally reached Estelle’s home. Jack pulled up the SUV in the front with screeching tyres and slammed down on the brake. Leaving it to Gwen to park the car properly, he got out and ran up the front walk, pounding on the front door with both fists.

“Estelle! Estelle!” There was no answer from within, and the door was locked. He gave up and ran around the side of the house. “Estelle!”

He found her in the garden, lying on her face on the ground, dead. He didn’t dare to get any closer, out of fear that he’d break down spectacularly in front of the entire team. He made a vague gesture in Owen’s direction, who seemed to understand its meaning because he came forth to check on Estelle.

“Looks like she died from drowning,” he murmured, clearly stunned. “The rest of the garden's dry as a bone.”

Jack nodded, the numbness that had been spreading in his heart with every loss of a loved one in his unnaturally long life growing another inch. Sometimes he wondered how long it would take till his heart turned to stone entirely.

He kneeled next to Estelle and closed her eyes with gentle fingers. Then he lifted her up and held her in his lap for one last time, wrapping his arms around her fragile frame and dying a little in the inside, like every time when he had to let someone go who meant something to him.

Owen and Tosh stepped away tactfully, let him mourn undisturbed. But Gwen-bloody-Cooper just _had_ to ruin even his last moment with Estelle. She couldn’t allow him this one moment of grief.

“It wasn't your dad that was in love with her all those years ago, was it?” she asked with fake sympathy that could not quite conceal her satisfaction about having finally figured it all out. “It was _you_.”

Jack glanced up at her with such hatred that it appeared to pierce even her callous, self-centered mind. 

“We once made a vow: that we'd be with each other till we died,” he said, tears running down his face freely. “I’ve failed to keep that promise. And you… _you_ have to take the last moment from us, haven’t you? You selfish bitch! Go to hell and leave us the fuck _alone_ , or I won’t guarantee what I’m gonna do next! Go, get lost! I don’t wanna see that stupid face of yours ever again!”

Tosh, always great at self-preservance, dragged the stunned Gwen back to the SUV. Jack kept crying for he didn’t even know how long. Then, when there weren’t any more tears to shed, he kissed the top of Estelle’s head tenderly, put her back down on the ground and stood up. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to find his composure again.

“I need a drink,” he said, without looking at Owen.

Owen pulled a flat metal flask from his pocket and tossed at him. Jack caught it, screwed it open and took a big swallow of the industrial strength whiskey. Then he looked at the doctor and raised an impressed eyebrow.

“Only for medical purposes, of course,” Owen said with a crooked smile.

“Of course,” Jack screwed the bottle shut. “Would you call Ianto for me? Have him initiate standard clean-up procedures? I… I don’t think I can deal with this just now.”

Owen nodded. “You want her in the vaults?”

Jack shook his head. “No, she was in no way attached to Tochwood. She deserves a proper funeral.”

Owen nodded again. “I’m sure Teaboy will mange. He does _proper_ very well… when he isn’t hiding murderous Cybermen in our basement, that is. Are we done with the case entirely?”

“Oh, no,” Jack said slowly. “I’m afraid it has just begun.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
When he got back to the Hub, everyone but Ianto had already gone home. Ianto, as always, was waiting for him, with the reliability of those faithful sevants one only met in old-fashioned novels, helping him out of his coat and placing a tumbler of old whiskey in front of him.

“Have one with me,” Jack murmured, wishing to prolong the moment when he’d be left alone a little longer. It seemed a frightening perspective right now.

If the invitation surprised Ianto, he showed no sign. He poured a drink for himself, too, and sat down on the other side of Jack’s desk expectantly, ready to listen if Jack was willing to talk. However, Jack was all too aware of the fact that the young man had just suffered a similar loss and was somewhat reluctant to burden him with even more sorrow. In fact, he wanted the exact opposite – to forget his own grief by listening to someone else.

“May I ask you something?” he asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “Where did you and Lisa met?”

For a moment, there was intense pain on Ianto’s face. Then it slowly eased into fond rememberance.

“During our third year at university,” he replied. “She studied mechanical and electrical engineering; I studied economics and computer science. We attended certain lectures together,” a rarely-seen, honest smile appeared on his face. “I was so surprised when she started showing interest for me – she was so beautiful, not to mention smart and witty, she could have had anyone… and yet she chose _me_ , of all people. I felt… I felt as if I had been given the world on a silver plate…”

He trailed off, not exactly sure how much more Jack wanted to hear. But Jack’s thoughts were already somewhere else.

“I met Estelle in London at the Astoria ballroom a few weeks before Christmas, during World War II,” he murmured. “She was seventeen years old and she was beautiful. I loved her at first sight. But nothing lasted back then. Promises were always being broken. Estelle ... to have to die like that…” he swallowed his drink. “You were together with Lisa for how long?”

“Four years,” Ianto replied quietly. “ _Not_ counting the three years _after_ the Battle of Canary Wharf. That was… different.”

“Seven years,” Jack murmured. “That’s seven years more than I was able to give Estelle. You know, I almost envy you.”

Ianto gave him a look that was hard to interpret. “Don’t,” he said dryly.

For a moment, they were silent. Then Ianto shifted his weight in the armchair, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Sir, the rose petals,” he began. “You found one on your desk that night, right? And you knew at once that it meant no good. How could you know that? Have you seen anything like that before?”

Jack hesitated for a moment. But all he could see on Ianto’s face was professional interest. Besides, Ianto was their archivist. He needed to know the background of their current case. So Jack leaned back in his armchair and shared with the young man the memories that had spawned his most recent nightmares.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
In the next morning, a highly agitated Gwen appreared in the Hub, whining and ranting about having found her entire flat a mess the previous night. Apparently, the furniture had been tipped over, and the dirt from the potted plants have been scattered on the floor along with red rose petals.

That last little detail finally caught Jack’s attention. He decided to take a look at the crime scene, taking Ianto with him to document things for the archives.

The flat was indeed in a sorry state. But what truly caught Jack’s interest was the roundstone rock formation made up of stones, leaves, twigs and red rose petals on the floor in the middle of the living room.

“Make a few photos,” he instructed Ianto. “Perhaps you can find similar patterns in the historical databases.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Gwen fumed. “In the whole of my working life I have never had to bring the bad times home with me. I have never had to feel threatened in my own home. But not any more, because this means these creatures can invade my life whenever they feel like it and I am scared, Jack.”

“Of course you’re scared,” Jack replied coldly. “What bad times did you have to bring home as a simple constable? A couple of drunken blokes in a bar? A cup of bad coffee? You haven’t even _touched_ real evil before you elbowed your way into Torchwood. You can’t blame me for it – I haven’t forced you; in fact, I did my best to keep you away, but you just wouldn’t leave things alone.”

“You need me,” Gwen retorted. “You’re so caught up with all that alien stuff that you don’t even know how to live anymore. See how helpless you all are now that it isn’t about Weevils or some weird alien tech? What can you do against these… these _things_? What chance did Estelle have? What chance do any of us have?”

Jack shook his head and said nothing. He just didn’t have the nerve to deal with Gwen’s hysterics right now. He hurt in the inside too much.

Not getting the answers she’d hoped for, Gwen stopped and got hold of herself – for the moment anyway – while Jack continued to survey the room and Ianto kept making photos. 

“You said these creatures protect their own,” she began in a more collected manner. 

Jack nodded absently. “Yeah.“

“You mentioned the chosen ones,” Gwen continued, the pitch of her voice rising again. “What are they? How many are there?”

Jack picked up the rocks from the formation and looked at them, taking a few readings with a hand-held scanner. As he didn’t answer her, she began to shout at him. “Tell me, Jack!”

Jack gave her a long-suffering look but knew it would be easier to answer her than to have her nag him all day. Even if she wouldn’t understand the answer, which was a distinct possibility. She was incredibly narrow-minded at times.

“All these so-called fairies were children once from different moments in time, going back millennia,” he said. “Part of the lost lands.”

“Lost lands?” she parroted. “What?”

Okay, the explanation obviously hadn’t been a success. “The lands that belong to them,” he replied with forced patience.

“What exactly do they want?” she insisted. “Why are they here?” 

Jack turned away from the rock formation, finished with his readings, and looked at her. “They want what's theirs – the next chosen one.”

”And if they get it,” she went on doggedly, “will they go away? Or do I have to count on being terrorised by these… these _things_ for the rest of my life? Will I have a peaceful moment ever again, a moment when I can feel safe?”

“Oh, shut up already,” Jack replied tiredly. “Your furniture is ruined, yes, and it’s unpleasant, but Estelle is _dead_ , and there’s a child somewhere that the creatures will take, soon, and we don’t even know who it is, not to mention how to save him… her… whatever. So, if you don’t have anything useful to say, at least do us the favour and stop whining!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
After returning from Gwen’s, Toshiko alerted them to the abnormal weather pattern found at _Coed y Garreg Primary School_ , and the team rushed there to investigate. As soon as they’d asked a few questions, it quickly became clear for Jack that the strange little girl, Jasmine Pearce, was the chosen one whom the creatures really wanted.

They went directly to he house of the girl’s mother, where they found the creatures crashing the five-year-anniversary party of the mother and her current partner. The little girl was standing on the side, watching one of the creatures stick its hand down her stepfather’s throat, suffocating him.

Another one of them kept Gwen and Jack from helping the poor man. It climbed onto Jack, tilting his head back with irresistible force, and for a moment Jack was taken by the wild hope that perhaps this time he actually _would_ be able to die. These creatures were so far outside the usual rules that they might be able to break the never-ending circle of resurrection and set him free.

But Gwen Cooper, who always knew everything better, just _had_ to interfere again. She lounged at them, knocking him to the ground and out of the creature’s reach. The… _thing_ got off him and jumped up into the trees, to the others, leaving him with a profound feeling of loss.

The little girl, Jasmine, gave her dead stepfather, whose mouth was stuffed with red rose petals, an unemotional look. Then she turned and slipped through the hole one of the creatures had just torn in the fence, and headed for the forest. Jack and Gwen ran after her.

When they caught up with her, the little girl was standing on a small lightning, looking up at the trees, smiling. Jack followed her look – and saw the “fairies” for the first time. They were demonic-looking creatures, with wings like dragonflies and razor-sharp teeth. Their knobby, green-grey limbs melded with the tree-branches and twigs almost seamlessly.

“Do you know you're walking in an old forest?” Jasmine asked in a dreamy voice, without turning to them. “Well, you are. It looks like a very old forest, and it's magical. I want to stay in it.”

“You can see this forest?” Jack asked, remembering what Owen had told him about the Roundstone Wood, revealing a direction of interest he’d never had expected from the cynical doctor.

Jasmine nodded. ”Yes. And it will come back – when they take me to it.”

Gwen looked at Jasmine, shock clearly written in her pale face. “ _They_ told you this?” she asked. Jasmine nodded, Gwen tried another approach, bringing in the human side, as she called it, not realizing that the child she was arguing with was barely human anymore. “But what about your mother? Don't you want to stay with her?” 

Jasmine gave her an annoyed look and shook her head. An unnatural wind came up, pushing Gwen back away from Jasmine. She gasped. “Jack, do _something_!”

Jack sighed and looked up. High above them in the treetops, the creatures were sitting on the branches. “Come on,” he said. “The child isn't sure.”

But he knew it wasn’t true, and was not the least surprised by Jasmine’s forceful announcement: “I _am_ sure!”

The creatures couldn’t take the child without her consent; that much had become clear from the myths Ianto had managed to dig up from the archives. As soon as she had given her consent, however, there wasn’t a thing anyone could have done for her. Which didn’t mean that Jack wouldn’t try, of course.

“Leave her alone,” he said, looking up at the nightmarish creatures sitting in the trees. “Find another chosen one.”

The creatures moved closer. “Too late,” one of them said in a raspy, ethereal voice that sent cold shivers down his spine… and not in a good way. “She belongs with us.”

“The child belongs here,” Jack argued, but he knew already he’d lost. Jasmine took a step away from him, trying to get to the creatures. He pulled her back to him.

Jasmine didn’t try to free herself, just looked at him with those frighteningly ancient eyes that seemed so unnatural in the face of such a small child. “Next time they'll kill everyone at my school… like they killed Roy and that man and your friend,” she warned.

Gwen stared at her with open mouth – it wasn’t a particularly endearing sight. “How do you know these things?”

Jasmine looked back at her, and there was almost something like pity on her face… the kind of pity children feel for adults who can’t understand the simplest things.

“If they want to they can make great storms, wild seas, turn the world to ice,” she said calmly. “Kill every living thing.” She looked at Jack, knowing somehow that he would understand the implications. “Let me go!”

Jack glanced up to the trees where the creatures were still sitting, waiting with the inhuman patience of beings not restricted by space or time. It was a feeling that he shared, to a certain extent – and he knew he had no choice to keep the girl here if she wanted to go. Which she obviously did, very much.

“The child won't be harmed?” he asked slowly. He hated to allow Estelle’s murderers to take her, but there was simply too much at stake. He only wanted to know that Jasmine would be all right in the mystical world she had chosen for herself.

“Jack, you can't...” Gwen protested, not understanding the deeper meaning of things; just like she never did. He ignored her.

“Answer me!” he demanded from the creatures. “She won't be harmed?”

The leader of the creatures looked down at him. There was a moment of strange understanding between them. “We told you,” that raspy, ethereal voice answered. “She lives forever.”

“A dead world,” Jasmine said quietly. “Is that what you want?”

Jack kneeled and looked into her eyes. “What good is that to you? There would be no more chosen ones.”

“They'll find us,” Jasmine replied, and now her voice was as raspy and ethereal as that of the creatures. “Back in time.”

The change of her voice made Jack understand that there was no way back for the girl. He touched Jasmine’s cheek, giving her one last memory of human touch before she would go on into that other, strange, dangerous world that would be her home forever.

”Take her,” he said simply. Few words had ever been harder to speak. But he knew there was no other way. He only wished they could have come to an understanding before Estelle had to die.

Jasmine stepped away from them. The creatures turned into lights and descended from the treetops to surround her.

“Jack, _no_!” Gwen screeched and ran after Jasmine, but Jack grabbed her and held onto her.

“You asked me what chance we had against them,” he said harshly. “For the sake of the world, _this_ is our only chance.”

Gwen pulled away from his grip and dashed after Jasmine who was walking determinedly toward the trees. She caught up with the girl and grabbed her with stubborn determination. Jack tried to rush to her aid, but two of the creatures caught him and immobilized him with their ice-cold, iron grip. He had to watch helplessly as another one of the things opened Gwen’s mouth and slammed its hand down her throat. 

He could do nothing. Absolutely nothing. Why couldn’t she just _listen_? Had he not warned her enough times? Why had she always had to be so thick-headed?

When Gwen stopped struggling, the creature dropped her body to the ground carelessly. The other two released Jack, as there wasn’t anything he could do. Jasmine skipped away down the path into the woods, the fairy lights surrounding her as she went.

Tosh and Owen had arrived just in time to see the outcome of things. There was nothing any of them could have done. Wtihout a word, they headed back to the car, neither of them willing to look at Jack. That angered him a bit, although somewhere deep down he could understand them.

“What else could I do?” he asked tiredly. They didn’t answer him. Together, they loaded Gwen’s lifeless body into the car and left him standing outside. Jack sighed, shook his head, walked around to the driver’s side and got into the car. There was no use to start arguing with them. They would come to terms with the events on their own, eventually. 

Besides, he still felt raw in the inside – and it wasn’t mainly for the girl. It was for Estelle, first and foremost. But nobody else seemed to care about Estelle… or about all the other victims. People were strange with their pity sometimes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
He dropped them off at their respective places and returned to the Hub alone. As usual, he found Ianto still in, sitting at Tosh’s workplace.

“I think you should see this, sir,” he said quietly.

Jack stepped at behind him and took a look at the various fairy photos strewn around the conference table. Ianto switched the monitor on in front of them, and the image of a Cottingley glass-plate photo appeared on it. It showed a girl surrounded by fairies. 

“Look at this,” Ianto picked up Toshiko’s pad and stylus. He zoomed in on one of the fairy images. Then he zoomed in even closer to the individual fairy face.

Jack took a deep, shocked breath. “It’s Jasmine!”

“So it is,” Ianto replied simply. “You’ve made the only possible choice, sir. You always do; no matter the costs. That’s why you’re the boss here.”

Jack looked up at him and saw nothing but understanding in his haunted eyes.

“Can you stay here tonight?” he asked. “I dread the thought of being alone right now.”

“Of course, sir,” Ianto replied simply. “Where else could I possibly go?”

~The End – for now~


End file.
